The Dogs of War
by defender
Summary: A tale of war and survival in the post nuclear wastlands through the eyes of a member of the B.O.S. r/r if you want if not that's fine too.


I saw the dust cloud rising from the south marking the passage of yet another caravaan from The NCR doubtlessly heading to Redding. This is the third such caravaan that has passed down this dry dusty trail in the past ten days and still no sign of raiders. Judging from the looks of the dust cloud it's still several hours from our positions. We've been out here, My squad and myself, for going on two weeks now.  
  
We were dispatched here from our home base in The NCR, formerly known as Shadysands quite a few years ago, Mayor Tandi had came to the Brotherhood of Steel on behalf of the merchants and Stockmen of NCR to ask for our assistance in protecting their caravaans and cattledrives from bandits and raiders. So here we are covered in dust and soaked in our own sweat watching for the smallest sign of raider activity along this trail and it was starting to turn in to a dry hole. Or, maybe the local raider bands had been tipped off that the Brotherhood was out patroling the caravaan routes. Either way we were starting to get restless. I'd give anything just to see some Radscorpions so we'd have something to do.  
  
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Just who am I you ask? Well my name is less as important as to why I'm here lying in a hole dug in the sun-baked desert floor waiting for a raider attack on a caravaan that may never happen. Well the answer to that is simple... I once worked for one of the families of New Reno doing odd and end jobs a hit here a hit there. My employeer John Bishop seemed a pretty decent boss to work for. The only problem was his wife Leslie Bishop and his daughter Angela. What to say about them.. they were both stunning and they knew exactly what they wanted and they ALWAYS got what they wanted. And, at that particular point of time in my life I happened to be the target of both of their affections. Leslie, Mrs. Bishop, once told me that she was far more experienced than her dear daughter was. So, in a moment of weakness I decided to find out just how much more experienced she was. I have to admit that she was much more experienced than her equally as lovely daughter. But, there was nothing that young Miss Angela wouldn't do after a few hits of Jet.  
  
Life had been good for me in New Reno, I had all the money I needed and two hot women that were more than willing. So why did I leave you ask? Well, that's a whole different story in it's own... Apparently, Angela had caught the eye of a son of one of Mr. Bishops allies and he didn't like the idea of having to share her love with one of her fathers hired guns. So, it was "accidently" slipped to the boss that I had been been doing the dirty deed with his wife and getting down right nasty with his daughter, doing things that would make the most seasoned whore at the Cats Paw blush. So while I was out on one of my usual jobs for the boss he decided to put out a price on my head while I was away. And of course Mrs. Bishop, who was not to happy about the lack of some of her husbands "atributes" journied out to find me for one last hot, heavy and lust filled love session and to deliver the warning about her husbands bounty.  
  
I made one more trip to New Reno to retrieve some supplies and pick up a few of my weapons that I might need in my exile. I slipped into the Shark Club from the back alley and climbing the outside wall. While I was slowly and quietly making my way down the hall I stopped off and peered into the bosses darkend office and caught a glimps of Angela shooting pool . I watched her for a while to be sure that she was alone before slowly pushing the door open and closing it behind me. Angela gave me knowing smile as I walked in. I met her at the pool table and hefted her up on it and ripped her clothes off of her. I had the best and dirtest sex with her I'd ever had. I left her there sleeping naked and smiling contentedly on her fathers pool table.  
  
So, now here I am nearly eight months later a member of the Brotherhood hidding out under a false name with nobody none the wiser to my true identity or my past. The last time I checked the bounty on my head was up to one million chips. I guess ole John is still upset about the things I did with his dear sweet daughter, who was no angel believe me, not to mention the liberties I also took with his wife.  
  
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The cloud had grown closer and I could now make out the first shapes of carts made from ancient automobiles being pulled by the customary two- headed brahmin. One of the many after-effects of the radiation from the Great War. I felt my heart start to beat faster in my chest maybe this one will be the one my mind was telling me as the fourth cart in line passed in front of me. I brought my M-16 uptighter against my shoulder and began to scan the area through the dust kicked by the hoofs and wheels. The wind began to kick up deteriorating visibilty of the trail . I thought I saw a shadow moving along the other side of the trail. But, it could've only been the sun playing tricks with the dust casting false shadows. Then I saw another and another. Then a loud battle cry verging on a shriek came up blending in with the sound of the wind in my ears. But, there was no mistaking the fearful screams and crys coming from the caravaan and the ever to familiar sounds of gunfire. The dust being kicked up by the wind and the now hurried movement of the brahmin and there carts made picking out targets near impossible. I sprang from my hole and charged towards the trail with two of my squad mates in tow.  
  
I took cover behind a cart whos brahmin had been killed in the initial exchange of fire between the raiders and caravaan drivers. I steadied my weapon on the top edge of the cart and got a raider dead in my sights and lightly squeezed the trigger sending three hot lead hornets into my targets chest dropping him. I smiled underneith the rag I had tied around my face to help keep the dust out of my nose and mouth. I searched for another target in the swirling wind and dust. I didn't have to look to hard I saw a threesome of raiders firing a M-60 machinegun at the first two carts cutting down anything that moved. I waved my left hand at Big Joe and motioned for him to follow my lead. I moved to a better firing vantage and then signaled Joe to let loose with his M-79 grenade launcher. I heard the soft thud of the grenade leaving the weapon and put my sight on the nearest raider. The grenade exploded on impact just behind the the small group showering them with dirt, rock and shards of metal from the exploding warhead. The machine gun fell silent, but the raider in my sights still showed life and was attempting to bring the machine gun back into play. I loosed another three round burst exploding the raiders head sending blood, skull and brain matter splattering across the sand.  
  
A RPG rocket flew over head from out of the dust cloud and hit a brahmin two carts down from my position blowing it to pieces and covering a good ten feet of area with brahmin parts and innards. The undiciplined raiders and caravaan drivers we're firing their weapons wildly which was making the situation even more dangerous for us. The snapping sound of rounds passing dangerously close was more than enough encouragement for me to keep my head down. I heard the steady stecatto of machine gun and small arms fire all around me and the air was permented with the smell of gun powder, blood and brahmin shit.  
  
I heard the hiss of a flamer off to my right and figured that was Lena bar-b-quing a raider or two. That was followed by a heavy rain of gunfire and a loud explosion and fireball. I saw Lena come storming out from the center of the fireball fully ingulfed in flame with her arms waving frantically. Someone, either a raider or caravaaner, had hit the fuel tank on the flamer. I fired a quick burst into her putting her out of her misery. No longer was she a pretty young red-head that I had became rather close to in Initiate training. Now she was a charred smoking corpse laying in the middle of the wasteland, war was definitely hell.  
  
The fighting lasted for several more minutes until as if by an unspoken agreement the firing stopped and the surviving raiders broke off contact. The bodies of raiders and caravaaners were strewn all over the place. The rest of the squad was intact, our only lose being Lena.  
  
The squad gathered in a semi-circle around Lena's unreckonizable remains in silence. The silence was finally broken by Riley. "Better you than me.", he said in a soft somber voice, "What are we going to do with her Snake?"  
  
I let out a sigh as I continued to look at my dead friend, "I'm not going to let her rot under this sun and be eaten on by scavangers. Go get a shovel and we'll bury her."  
  
Riley nodded and went to get a shovel. He returned a few minutes later and we dug a grave to place our fallen comrade in. The caravaan drivers joined us at the side of the hastily made grave and a few words were said in her honor and the hole was filled in.  
  
The squad and went about searching the dead raiders and collecting their weapons for transport back to the bunker. We assisted the caravaan in collecting their dead and hitching those carts without brahmin to ones that had a brahmin. After all we could do was done we set out for home a tired and weary bunch of Initiates proud of ourselves for having survived our first real mission out into the wastes of this deadly and horrifiing new world.  
  
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Upon returning to the bunker at NCR, I made my report to General Harding and rejoined the squad in the squad bay. I was sitting on my bunk taking a pull from a bottle of rot-gut that I had "liberated" from one of the raiders when Beriand the squads medic approached. "You sure are a cold- hearted bastard.", he said taking the offered bottle and taking a pull, "You act as if losing Lena doesn't bother you. Even Big Joe is shook up about it."  
  
I eyed Beriand for a long moment and gave a half-smile, "Big Joe is just a kid. He was a brahmin herder before he came to the Brotherhood. He's never seen anyone killed before. So of course he's going to be shook up. Why the hell do you care anyway? I mean what the fuck doc, she's not the first friend I've had killed and she wont be the last. What do you expect me to do? Breakdown and cry like some baby? Yeah, it bothers me that Lena is dead she was a good.... trooper. "  
  
Beriand gave me a knowing smile and handed the bottle back , "That's what I thought. I always knew you two were up to something whenever ya'll would disappear for periods at a time. So how was it?"  
  
I returned his gaze and shook my head, "It was purely a friendship doc. Nothing more..." I took a pull from the bottle again, "There wasn't anything there; it was just consentual stress relief that's all. And, besides I dont kiss and tell."  
  
Beriand nodded, "If you say so.. you were one lucky son of a bitch. There's a few guys... and girls that would've liked to have had a shot at that." He grabbed my shoulder and gave me a wink, "You take care of yourself, Snake and dont get too wasted on that stuff we've got another patrol tomorrow." 


End file.
